


Exhausted

by Fangirltothefullest



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Logan Needs A Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-14 16:58:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18480469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirltothefullest/pseuds/Fangirltothefullest
Summary: Just a vent fic for Logan and college class work based on an experience of my own.





	Exhausted

Logan is exhausted.

It's never been easy for him.

4:35 am. That's what the clock on his phone says when he checks it. He holds his place in the book and flips through the remaining paves, counting. Too many pages left to go.

He groans and runs a hand through his hair, rolling over on his bed.

He has to be up by 7. There's no way he's getting any more than a few hours of sleep if he's lucky.

If only the research hadn't taken so long; if only he hadn't spent that hour watching things with his roommates; if only he hadn't stopped to eat dinner. Maybe then he would have gotten more sleep. But nothing was easy and focusing was harder than it had ever been.

Burnout. That's what they call it. He is exhausted and yet he cannot sleep with the anxiety bubbling in his head, forcing him to overthink.

A pang of dread and envy claws his stomach as he thinks about his roommates sleeping peacefully in their apartment. He thinks about Roman who only needs to take two classes this semester. He thinks of Patton who has been lamenting his struggles with three classes and thinks of Virgil and how he's taken a semester off to work and the troubles he's having with his co-workers and sighs.

Logan has never been lucky. He's never had the option to take less than four classes and the floating class he's required to take alongside them. He's never had the ability to lash out and cry because doing so feels like a weakness he can't afford to have.

He doesn't have time to deal with the repercussions of lashing out. His family certainly had no time for his sob stories about school when he lived with them.

Patton is good with emotions, helping the others and coming to them when he's reached the end of his own rope and is crying. Patton is very good at crying. But Logan doesn't know how to do that. He hardly cries, and when he does it's when everyone is asleep. It's.... it's too hard to open up to them even though he's known these three for years. And even if he wants to he's too busy to break down until it's that late.

Instead Logan grows more and more exhausted the more stressed he becomes. His immaculate organization is tossed in the trash, his appearance gets less and less stable and he fights every day to keep himself trying to look at least somewhat put together so he doesn't fall to pieces. His room of the apartment is a disaster zone of discarded clothing, haphazard books and notes scribbled on papers that line his cork boards in a frenzy.

But it's 4:40 and he's wasting time. If he doesn't get this play read he'll have nothing to talk about tomorrow in class and if he doesn't participate he loses points and his C that he's worked so hard to maintain drops to a D.

He's read the same paragraph three times and doesn't understand it any more. He runs his hand to his eyes and ducks his fingers under his glasses to rub at them.

He's exhausted and the cough that's been lingering for two weeks refuses to go away.

He tries to calculate the time and he knows he can't afford to sleep in. He has to have breakfast because he has no time between classes to have lunch. He has to heat the car up and drive the others and himself to campus because Roman, Virgil and Patton always take turns driving back home when he really really doesn't want to.

He has to shower because he already skipped a day to save time for homework and he knows if he skips it again people will start to notice.

He hates school.

His parents always told him he never had a choice, that he was going to college and that there was no getting around it. He understands the reasons, the need for that stupid little paper and he understands the importance.

But he's burnt out. No amount of caffeine is going to help him tomorrow if he doesn't get sleep and he knows he can't get sleep because he still has three acts to read to finish reading for the discussion in class tomorrow.

He heaves a heavy sigh, forces down that awful feeling in his tummy and readjusts his glasses. He'll just have to make extra tea tomorrow and bring it with him to have during class.

He can do this.

He's always gone through school handling his homework alone, he can do it again. Yes he's helped Patton with his spelling and grammar mistakes. Yes he's helped Roman bounce ideas off of for papers before and yes he's even helped write some of Virgil's papers when the other was stuck (because screw the fucking system it's rigged to get people to fail and he refuses to let his friends suffer at the hands of a rigged system) but no one knows how to help Logan with his homework.

No one ever knows.

Not when he struggled with math, not when he'd gotten a bad grade because his teacher didn't like the terminology he was using and not when he just had no time.

It isn't their fault they can't help, they're busy and have their own problems and Logan understands because they do their own things to try and encourage him in their own ways. It's been this way since he was little. He doesn't think it's possible for things to be different.

In the end it's always up to Logan to do his own thing with no help, no guidance and to flounder and scramble until he can't any more.

He tries to finish reading..... the clock ticks horribly from where it sits on his desk.

He tries to finish reading but he just can't comprehend it any more.

It's 5:13.

He has to be up at 7.

Logan wants to scream.

How dare they do this to him, how dare these teachers not understand that students need to sleep.

Monsters that they are.

He coughs harshly and groans, clutching his side. He's been coughing on and off for so long that his ribs hurt but he doesn't have the time or money to go to a chiropractor.

He glares down at the stupid playbook in his hands. He loves the smell of the old paper, of the dust and the ink and yet here staring down at it he has nothing but contempt.

He wants to burn it. It's something he never should be thinking of in terms of books but a seething rage is boiling in his gut, fueled by his bitterness.

"It's not fair." He grits his teeth and slams it shut. "Why should I have to suffer just to pass a stupid class? Why should I fall behind because I was sick with bronchitis? Why should I suffer this torment?! 17 plays to read for a single class in a single semester?! A quiz every single day? Presentations every other day?! Books and books and papers and essays and no time to eat and no time to sleep and meetings every Monday and workshops every Tuesday Thursday and Friday?! Plays I have to pay for that I'm forced to see, powerpoints I'm forced to memorize, I have to spend time with my roommates, I have to eat, I have to shower, I have to get dressed and drive and pick up shit at the store and I have to sleep and laundry and I'm not even working!" He gasps, frustration tearing him apart. "And capstone shit and financial aid and loans getting fucked up and each class requires a minimum of twelve hours of homework but that's not true because one assignment worth 10 points has 50 steps and requires library time and access! Also driving time! And I just can't think any more!"

His eyes widen as his hands drop to his sides from where he's been pulling at his hair. He looks at his hands and he realizes he's shaking. "I can't..... think any more....." He cracks a soft, broken smile and feels the chains weighing down on him. Usually he pretends they're not there, the weight of the thousands of dollars of dept, the bitterness to his parents in making this happen, and the pain of everything he's going through while knowing it's just a piece of paper; the grey hairs he's getting early and the hours and hours of free labour this school is dragging from him. It's something he's paying for but now that he's so far into it he can never get out because it's too late  
He already owes the money. He has no choice.

It's heavy against him and he wonders if Atlas felt so alone.

He sighs again. "Bury it Logan. You have to do this. It's too late to back down. You'll get that paper and maybe if you're lucky you'll make a manager at some random fast food establishment. Just keep going. You only have two semesters after this."

He looks back at the book and sighs, sitting up straight and continuing to read.

The clock strikes 6am.

Logan is exhausted.


End file.
